


Shabby Not Chic

by nomical



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-17 11:49:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4665474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nomical/pseuds/nomical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a poor struggling PhD student, Merlin was used to a certain lifestyle. Then Arthur moved in across the hall and ruined everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shabby Not Chic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wyvern](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyvern/gifts).



> For my darling [scinscire](http://scinscire.tumblr.com/), I bet you didn't think revenge would come as quickly as it did! I actually started writing this on your birthday because I thought it would be a cute little 1k drabble to fill the bed sharing square on my trope bingo card. Obviously April has long since passed and I failed at the rest of trope bingo, but I always intended to gift this one to you - our conversation about revenge just happened to come at the perfect moment. I hope it makes you want to punch them both in the face <3.

“Mate, do you have any Berocca? I’ve got a bit of a funny tummy.”

Looking back, Merlin probably should have recognize those words as an indicator of what was to come. Because hearing those ridiculous words fall from Arthur Pendragon’s even more ridiculously lush lips was really the beginning of the end.

Because as a poor struggling PhD student, Merlin was used to a certain lifestyle. He was used to budgeting down to the pence and still only having thirty pounds to feed himself for the month. He had grown accustomed to living in a three room flat and still not having enough money to turn the heat on every night. He was a little bit proud of riding his single-speed bicycle come rain or shine. He still wasn’t fond of the trains that sounded their horns every night at the exact moment he got into bed but he’d learned to live with them. It was a pitiful lifestyle, but it wasn’t exactly meant to be permanent.

So when Arthur ‘peach bum’ Pendragon moved in across the hall, Merlin was completely unprepared. When describing the situation to Gwen, he had to resort to really stupid comparisons, like God was playing a crane game and accidently dropped the top prize in the drawer instead of the consolation one. But no matter how long or hard Gwen laughed at him, Merlin couldn’t find a better analogy. Arthur simply wasn’t meant to live here. Clearly it was some kind of cosmic mistake.

Arthur looked like an Eton boy on work experience at a crack house. Literally. Merlin’s pretty sure Dave down the hall is a bonafide crack dealer. He didn’t interact much with Dave. He didn’t interact with ninety-nine percent of his neighbours. Which was why it was so shocking when Arthur stopped him in the hall three days after moving in.

After their initial, uneventful exchange of names, Merlin had been privately enjoying the improvements to his usually grey and dingy landscape by catching sight of a flash of blond hair as Arthur rounded a corner or the full body view if he was lucky enough to see him out the window heading for the bus stop. Not in a creepy ‘I’m watching you from my window way’ but in a ‘oh look, I happened to glance out my window and now I get to admire your aesthetic completely by accident as you catch the number forty-seven. I take it to go grocery shopping, perhaps we should walk to the stop together.’

But then the gorgeous fool had to go and open his mouth and wreck the illusion of perfection. With that one request, Arthur Pendragon established himself firmly in Merlin’s mind as an entirely silly person.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Berocca? Little yellow tablets? Miracle cure for hangovers?”

“You’re hungover?”

“A little.”

“And you called it a ‘funny tummy’?”

“Yes?” said Arthur slowly, giving Merlin an excellent view of his snaggletooth.

“That’s adorable,” said Merlin before he could help himself.

“Well if I knew I was going to get the third degree over it I probably would’ve begged some off the bloke in four D instead,” said Arthur, running a hand through his hair and ruffling it not unlike a slightly annoyed owl.

“Don’t bother Fahyim before half two.”

“Why half two?”

“It’s a long, slightly weird story,” Merlin shrugged, aware of how increasingly strange he was looking. First impressions were not his strong suit. Neither were second ones. Quite honestly, Merlin came across as odd until around the seventh or eighth impression when people usually just gave up and rolled with it.

“Well then.” Arthur looked around with his lips pursed and the air of someone who would rather be anywhere else than in his current location.

There was a beat of silence in which Merlin silently called out to any deitity with their ears on to smite him into oblivion. When no sudden meteorites or bolts of lightning appeared, he sighed and bit the bullet.

“That was a little weird, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Arthur grimaced.

“Do you still want a Berocca?”

Arthur seemed to weigh the might of his hangover against the prospect of spending more time with Merlin. To Merlin’s relief, Arthur was apparently sicker than he looked.

“Yeah.”

“Brilliant. Give me a minute, they’re in with the rest of the clinical trial discards.”

“What?”

But with that, Merlin had scurried off back to his three rooms to find the elusive hangover cure. Though they had gotten off to a shaky start, Merlin soon put Arthur’s mind at ease with the knowledge that he was a med student and not in the habit of randomly picking up boxes of expired pharmaceuticals. As Arthur drank his tonic, they had danced the awkward, getting-to-know-you waltz and, despite a few more cringe attacks, Merlin was relatively confident that he had managed to behave like a normal human being. He behaved so well in fact, that he managed to trick Arthur into having several more conversations with him. Granted, they were all in the hallway and it goes against British codes of politeness to blank someone if they just so happened to exit their flat at the same time as you did, but the point of this mental roundabout was that Merlin successfully had four or five conversations with Zeus incarnate and only managed to embarrass himself twice. Maybe three times. Four tops.

It was after one particularly successful encounter where Merlin had managed to make Arthur laugh (and not a dignified, posh laugh either. A throw your head back and bray like a donkey laugh that only endeared Arthur to him more) that Merlin had the sneaking suspicion that they were actually moving past the point of politeness and that Arthur was growing a little bit fond of his bizarre hallway nattering. To test his theory, Merlin took the plunge one evening after he was back from school and Arthur was back from wherever the hell he went every day.

“Look, I don’t have much to offer in terms of fine dining, but do you want to split a pasta bake? I’ve probably got a couple sausage rolls we could heat up for protein,” said Merlin casually, as if he didn’t know exactly how much, or in this case how little, food there was in his fridge.

“I could murder a sausage roll,” said Arthur, moaning in a way that wasn’t entirely rated PG.

With his cheeks a slightly pinker colour than normal, Merlin ushered Arthur inside.

“This is brilliant,” he said, hanging his coat on one of many random nails sticking out of the wall. “Normally I feel all self-conscious bringing mates over because of the absolute squalor of it, but I can’t imagine yours is much different. Or is it?” He whirled around to face Arthur who was leaning against the counter. “Please don’t tell me your flat is completely posh and I’ve got the one manky broom cupboard the landlord never bothered to renovate. I mean, I’ve seen inside Fahyim’s so I guess mine's not the only one, but maybe that’s because all the money went into renovating your rooms.”

“Do you know Merlin, you have the most incredible ability to talk rubbish of anyone I’ve ever met. The speed at which your mouth moves is like magic,” said Arthur, a half smirk tugging his mouth upwards.

“My mum says I was born this way,” Merlin deadpanned.

“And your gift with non-sequitur is surpassed by none.” Arthur rolled his eyes. “Shall I grab some salad from mine to round out our carb feast?”

“Yes please.”

By the end of that first dinner, Merlin was pretty much resigned to his fate. Arthur was: fit (“he’s got the Dorito ratio Gwen - I mean. Maybe like a wide bottomed Dorito that didn’t quite get tapered enough but honestly, if he was a chip I’d much rather eat him than Chris Evans”), funny (“he has such good taste in Vines, we bonded over a shared love of Thomas Sanders”), smart ("I don’t even know how it happened but we were talking about climate change and now he’s telling me all these facts about how inbreeding actually makes mountain gorillas healthier?"), sensitive (“and then he told me about how as a kid he cried when the Sojourner rover stopped transmitting back to earth.” “No of course I didn’t tell him that, Curiosity’s birthday was 2013”) and passionate (“I’m still a bit fuzzy on the details, but he gave up a plush job at his father’s company because he refused to compromise his morals. No, no brother unfortunately. But he has a sister if you want to give that a go!”). But he reasoned with himself that his predicament wasn’t so bad. He could manage having an actual perfect person living across the hall from him. Merlin had learned long ago that making the first move in a relationship usually didn’t work out for him (read: never) so he was perfectly content to wait for something to happen. Even if nothing ever happened it was fine. He could survive having Arthur as his friend. Probably.

Of course, as soon as he came to this conclusion everything went to hell.

Bicycle theft was a common enough occurrence; especially in their part of town. Being of so little means, Merlin was usually a lot more careful than the average commuter. But he was only human, and even the most diligent cyclist can only do so much when plied with copious amounts of alcohol. And it just so happened that on one auspicious day in April, the day of he successfully passed his thesis proposal, Merlin had one pint too many at a student haunt appropriately named _The Loaded Dog_ – and really, how could he not when everyone was buying for him?

Left in isolation, there is absolutely nothing wrong with overindulging from time to time, especially not when one is celebrating a great victory. There is however a problem if one is expected to carry out moderately important tasks after the period of inebriation. Like securely locking one’s bicycle to the post after walking it home (because even absolutely shattered Merlin is not foolish enough to drink and ride). So the next morning, the newly crowned ABD (All But Dissertation) Merlin woke to a splitting headache and the sound of Arthur shouting as a pair of lowlifes made off with his bike. Arthur, bless him, valiantly chased after them for far longer than the constraints of polite try-hardness demanded (and wasn’t that stamina impressive?) but he came back red cheeked and empty-handed, looking far more dejected than any concerned neighbour had the right to look.

“Cheer up, it’s my bike that got stolen,” said Merlin smiling, despite the fact that even the most minute facial movements caused a spike of pain in his temples.

“But I failed you,” said Arthur far more somber than the situation demanded.

Were they living in medieval times, Merlin was ninety percent positive Arthur would be looking for a sword to throw himself on. Luckily for both of them, swords were no longer commonplace so Merlin did the next best thing he could think of to ease bruised honour and took Arthur back to his place for a cuppa.

Despite the hour or so he spent assuring Arthur that everything would be fine, Merlin couldn’t quite convince himself of the same thing. Being in the final stages of his doctorate required him to be on campus every single day which, until now, had meant getting on his bike and peddling for thirty minutes. And while biking wasn’t his preferred method of travel (especially considering his meals were often lacking in the all-important calories and fats that powered muscles) it was free. So now it came down to the question of whether he wanted to shell out an unexpected couple hundred pounds on a bus pass or on a new bicycle (as Gumtree was being less than helpful in the used department). Neither of these expenses were anything Merlin was particularly happy about enduring, particularly since everyone in his family seemed to be having money troubles at precisely the same time. What with the boiler going on his mum and his uncle taking on a new employee at the store, no one was really in a place to give him a loan.

“Do you think they’d notice if I started sleeping in the lab?” Merlin asked taking a sip of his revoltingly black coffee. “Because I could shower at the sports center and just cook all my meals in the student lounge.”

“Well whatever you do, you need to sort something that doesn’t involve you walking an hour each way to campus. You’re making less sense than usual,” Mordred replied.

“No but think about it, if I just use a yoga mat and then tuck it under my desk when I’m done, how would they even know I was there?”

“I think CCTV might give it away,” Mordred laughed. “Why don’t you come kip at mine for a few weeks? Take the bus, save your money, buy a bike, move back to your flat.”

Merlin snorted. “Habib will have someone else in the second I give my notice.”

“Then you’ll go somewhere else.”

“Not much out there cheaper than what I’ve got now, not unless I want to go outside the A563, and I don’t really fancy biking for hours every day.” Merlin sighed. “Maybe I should take a leave of absence.”

“What good would that do?”

“I could go home, work some crapshite job, make a bit of money and come back.”

“And have to pay a thousand for the extra term fees?”

“Well then I’ll just drop out and come back when I’ve got all the money!”

“Mate, Hunith would squash you like a bug if you dropped out.” Mordred shook his head. “Do you remember how she looked when we told her we were thinking of staying up here for Christmas? I thought to myself, this is it – this is the day I end up on The Jeremy Kyle Show with one of those crap bylines beneath my face like ‘my aunt beat me up and ruined Christmas!’.”

“Well what other choice do I have?”

“I told you! Come stay with me!” Mordred wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “We’ll figure this out Merls, you’re too good to drop out. You’re the one in the family that’s ‘going places’.”

“Yeah, straight to the poor house.” Merlin moaned, giving in to gravity and letting his head fall onto his desk.

“You’ll be the best educated pauper in the bunch,” Mordred grinned. “Now come on, let’s go raid Morrisons for some empty boxes.”

Despite their raid’s lack of bounty, the good thing about being absolutely dirt poor was that Merlin had very few possessions. So despite returning home at lunchtime with only three boxes, Merlin was relatively confident that he could make everything fit. He had just reached the top of the stairs when Arthur poked his head into the hall.

“Hey Merlin, I wanted to ask if you - what are those boxes for?” Arthur’s usually sunny tone shifted to one of suspicion.

“Hey. It uh, looks like I’m going to be moving in with my cousin for a few weeks,” he replied, struggling to keep the boxes under his arm and unlock the door at the same time.

“Why?”

“Because I can’t afford to live here and buy a new bike.”

Almost immediately, he wished he had of chosen to say anything else. The crestfallen expression on Arthur’s face was almost too much to bear and frankly, completely unnecessary. It wasn’t like Arthur was the one facing a hardship!

“I knew I should have kept after them.” Arthur leant back and smacked his head into the doorframe. “I’m so sorry Merlin.”

“Oh for the love of - it’s not your fault,” Merlin snapped. “I was the one stupid enough to get drunk and not chain the damn thing up properly. I’m almost thirty, you think I could have grasped the concept of ‘lock up your shit’ by now.” He kicked at his still locked door and, because the universe clearly had a raging hate boner for him, the boxes slipped out from under his arm and started their merry descent back down the stairs.

They turned in unison to watch them slide back to the front door and Merlin sighed.

“Look, you don’t have to move, I can just loan you the money for a new bike,” said Arthur, folding his arms.

“Well you’re going to be waiting an awfully long time for that return,” snorted Merlin.

“That’s fine,” said Arthur stubbornly.

“Arthur, remind me again what you do for a living?”

“I -,” he ground his jaw and looked down the hall before answering, “I work at McDonalds.” He turned back to face Merlin and glared at him as if daring him to say anything.

“Exactly,” Merlin sighed, all of the fight gone out of him. “Which means it’s not okay for you to lend me money when you need it as bad as I do.”

“I’m not going to be there for forever,” Arthur bit out defensively.

“I know you’re not - ”

“And there’s nothing wrong with working there period.”

“I never said there was, but I can’t - ”

“What if you moved in with me?”

“What?” asked Merlin, wrong-footed.

“What if you moved in with me,” Arthur repeated slowly. “Look, no matter what you say, I feel at least partially responsible for your bike getting stolen. Shut up, it’s just who I am,” he said to Merlin’s half-garbled objection. “So it would make me feel immeasurably better if you would move in with me and save money that way. I assume that you can at least afford half of what you currently pay for rent.”

Merlin nodded hesitantly.

“Good, it’s settled then. You move in with me, we split the rent fifty-fifty, and each of us profits.”

Merlin took a couple moment to process all of Arthur’s completely ludicrous speech.

“Do you even have room for a second mattress in there?”

“No, but I’ve got a double,” Arthur raised a challenging eyebrow. “And in 2015, there’s nothing wrong with two friends sharing a bed, is there?”

“Noooo,” Merlin conceded slowly.

On paper, the proposal actually made a lot of sense; once you got beyond the bed sharing part. Despite the general level of dodgyness, Merlin was quite fond of his neighbourhood. There was a great Thai place he sprung for once a month and the owners of the corner shop had finally stopped glaring at him suspiciously every time he went in. And it would certainly be easier to move across the hall as opposed to moving across town. The problem lay in Merlin’s giant, embarrassing crush on Arthur. Because as mature as Merlin liked to think he’d become, he didn’t trust his dick to behave in close proximity to Arthur, and he couldn’t think of anything more cringe-inducing than Arthur waking up due to any kind of half-asleep humping on his part. Hell, his dick was barely controlling itself now under Arthur’s furious knight in shining armor gaze.

In what he knew was a futile move, Merlin tried once more to reason for sanity.

“What about Habib? These rooms are meant to be for singles.”

“Technically we’d still be single,” said Arthur, making Merlin have to bite down to stop himself physically melting from embarrassment. “And that’s a rubbish excuse; you know Habib doesn’t come round for anything less than property damage.”

“Yes but still - ”

“Admit it,” said Arthur smugly, “you’re just looking for excuses now because you don’t want to admit that this is a brilliant idea that we should have thought of months ago.”

“Yes, that is the problem I am having,” said Merlin weakly.

“So you’ll do it then?”

Faced with the human equivalent of a golden retriever puppy on the verge of leaping for its owner’s face, Merlin did what any human being with a soul would.

“Sure.”

Smiling at him like he just hung the moon, Arthur dashed down the stairs to retrieve the fallen boxes.

“Not much point in using these for the move but I’ve got a wobbly table leg that I bet one of these could sort out,” he said cheerfully.

“Good call,” said Merlin, forcing a laugh.

If Arthur, poor, sweet Arthur who wasn’t used to people not being entirely pleased with his ideas, noticed any more hesitation from Merlin he opted to ignore it. They spent the next hour moving Merlin’s meager possessions into Arthur’s, and now his, flat.

Arthur’s flat wasn’t much different than his own. His had a bit more kitchen and Arthur’s had a tiny room he suspected was meant to be a sitting room, but overall the differences were minimal. Still the same off-white (which at some point had probably been pure white) walls, same drippy windows with the mold thriving in the corners, same cheap laminate countertops. It was also similarly dressed. Habib had included the bare minimum amount of furniture needed to list it as ‘furnished’. The familiar Ikea kitchen table was like seeing an old friend. There was a beanbag chair sitting in a sad little heap in the sitting room, which was sort of an equivalent for a sofa. There were no personal touches on the wall save for a calendar with various appointments marked on it. It was sort of reassuring, in a depressing kind of way. Living here would almost be like living at home. Except with a bedmate. Totally doable.

To reassure himself of that fact, Merlin poked his head into the bedroom under the pretence of stashing his sheets in wardrobe. The room was just as barren as the rest of the flat. A single wardrobe stood in one corner and a bedside table in the other. In the center of the room, taking up a good seventy-five percent of the space, was the bed. It wasn’t particularly impresssive, the boxspring and the mattress sitting on the floor with a simple blue duvet on top, but to Merlin it looked like bloody Everest. Surely doubles were meant to be wider than that? Realising it would be a little bit more than awkward if Arthur came in and caught him starring at the bed like a weirdo, Merlin flung his now redundant sheets into the wardrobe, tossed his pillow on the bed, and back-peddled to the kitchen.

“Okay,” said Arthur as he put the last Cup of Soup sachet in the cupboard, “I’ve got to pop out for a few hours. You go do your science or whatever it is you do and ring Habib to tell him you’ve moved out. Knowing him, he’s going to be in showing it tomorrow. I’ll be back tonight by seven at the latest. When are you done today?”

“What?” asked Merlin, feeling overwhelmed.

“What time are you done today?” asked Arthur, pulling on his jacket. “We’ve only got the one key today and the person who’s going to be home first should have it. I’m normally home before you but it’s a Thursday which means anything goes.”

“Right.” When had Arthur started memorizing his schedule? “Thursday is my teaching day and sometimes after tutorial I don’t have the willpower to drag myself back to the lab so I just go home instead.”

“And what does today feel like? Is it a nose to the grindstone kind of day or a home at six to have a curry with the new flatmate kind of day?” Arthur asked cheekily.

“Curry sounds nice,” Merlin answered truthfully. “But I don’t want to impose any more than I already am, and if curry is going to break your bank then - ”

“Merlin,” Arthur clasped a deliciously warm hand on his shoulder, “you are not imposing. You are saving both of us money. I think we can spring for takeaway on this auspicious occasion.” He gave Merlin a bit of a shake before releasing him and Merlin absolutely did not fight the urge to swoon.

“Fine. Meet back here at seven?”

“Sounds like a plan. Roomie,” Arthur winked, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and was gone.

If Merlin did not absolutely have to teach that afternoon, he might of considered crawling into bed and trying to get all his sleeping done in advance, as the prospect of sharing a bed with Arthur was becoming more daunting by the second. Sadly, Merlin was well past the point in his academic career where he could afford to take a sickie for something as trivial as nerves. With a sense of dread, he packed his bag and headed for the bus stop.

Beyond ringing Habib (“no, it’s not the mold, I really just don’t have enough money to stay”), explaining the new plan to Mordred (“shut up, it’s not funny!”), and doing the absolute bare minimum of lesson planning, Merlin accomplished absolutely nothing for the rest of the day. Luckily for his sanity, his students had come to class completely unprepared and Merlin spent the better part of two hours explaining the readings to his students, occupying his thoughts with the inner workings of the autonomic nervous system rather than picturing how his own autonomic nervous system was going to react come bed time. By the end of the day, Merlin had worked himself into a fairly frenzied state. He actually debated walking home in the hopes that he’d be ready to drop unconscious by the time he finally got back to the flat. But picturing the disappointed look on Arthur’s face as he ate cold curry alone was enough to make him drag his sorry arse onto the bus at six thirty-two.

He arrived home at seven o’clock precisely (and damn his anxiety and overbearing need to arrive on time) and knocked on what used to be his neighbour’s door. There was the sound of floorboards creaking at a rapid pace and the door was flung open before Merlin’s hand had fallen back to his side.

“Welcome to chez Penrys,” Arthur beamed at him. “My casa est su casa, or however that goes.” He turned and talked back to the kitchen, leaving Merlin to stare open-mouthed at the changes.

What had been bordering on crack den territory just hours before now looked like an almost lived-in sitting room. The beanbag was still flopped unhappily in its corner, but it was now joined by a slightly scuffed love seat and a makeshift coffee table made of bricks and a sheet of plywood. There were prints on the walls, and despite being stuck on with clear tape and probably coming from Poundland, they did wonders to brighten the place up. There was even a welcome rug under his feet.

“Arthur, what - ”

“Do you like it?” Arthur came out of the kitchen and placed two steaming bowls of curry on the table. “Oh shit, forgot the placemats.” He dashed back into the kitchen and returned with matching red ones.

“Of course I like it,” said Merlin, still frozen in place as Arthur fussed with the table arrangements. “But what on earth is it all for?”

“I just figured it was probably time we both had a little bit of cheer in our lives,” Arthur shrugged. “I know money is tight for you and I’m not exactly rolling in it anymore, but that’s no reason to not take pride in our surroundings. I mean, it’s all fine and good when you’re living alone, but I thought we could make a go at it and really turn this place into a home. However temporary,” he added in a rush.

“I - sure,” said Merlin, completely gobsmacked. “I guess I’m just not used to people spending money on me.”

“It’s not all for you, you peacock,” Arthur rolled his eyes and started to tug Merlin’s jacket off. “I don’t particularly like living like a hobo either. Now turn around and smile.”

“What? Why?”

“You are so suspicious of everything I say. Because we’re going to take a picture to celebrate our first night as roommates. And also because the coathook I bought has a picture frame in it and we need something to put in it.”

“Okay,” said Merlin placidly, letting Arthur manhandle him into position in what he feared was going to be a fairly frequent occurrence.

Arthur pulled out a phone that was probably very popular three or four years ago and turned the camera on.

“You have a colour printer at work, yeah?” asked Arthur, throwing his arm around Merlin in what was probably a casual platonic gesture that Arthur did with all his friends but sent prickles of excitement up and down Merlin’s arm.

“Yeah.”

“Good. Now smile.”

Hands clenched at his sides, Merlin did as he was told and gave the camera the most genuine smile he could muster under the circumstances. After the audible click, Arthur pulled away to look at the photo.

“Well, you look a little bit like a startled deer but I look good so I suppose this’ll have to do.” Arthur slid the phone back into his pocket.

“Thanks.” Merlin shut the door and found the aforementioned hook hanging on the wall opposite. It was really more of a picture frame than coatrack; a dark fake-wood frame with five little hooks hanging off the bottom. It was a little bit tat but somehow it looked right at home on their dirty wall. Their wall. One of many walls that he and Arthur now shared.

“Tuck in before it goes cold,” Arthur called from the kitchen. Are you a wine or beer person?”

“Eh, anything really. As long as it has alcohol in it I’m not fussed. I wouldn’t say no to a stout if you had one though.”

“I knew it,” said Arthur, returning to the sitting room. “As soon as I saw you I thought to myself ‘he probably likes disgustingly dark drinks’.” He handed Merlin a glass and a can of Guinness.

“The darker the better,” Merlin agreed, sitting down. “I suppose you’re a bitters man?”

“London Pride,” Arthur conceded, setting his own can on the table. “Cheers?”

“Cheers.” Merlin raised his glass and let the heavy taste wash over his tongue.

Arthur sat down and the cushion under Merlin gave way, forcing him closer to Arthur. Not that he really had much of a choice in the matter; the sofa was barely large enough for two.

“So, how much do I owe you?” asked Merlin, attempting to casually push himself towards the armrest.

“Don’t worry about it,” said Arthur, picking up his bowl.

“Oh come on now, you said it yourself, half of this is mine now,” Merlin gestured to the room at large. “I don’t want to start things off on a bad foot.”

“Just leave it, alright? Splashing out on dinner and decorations was my idea so I’ll carry the check on this one.” Arthur dug in to his curry with perhaps slightly more force than necessary.

“Alright. Thanks,” said Merlin awkwardly. He picked at his food, casting his gaze around the room, trying to find something else to talk about. “This is a great sofa.” Because that didn’t sound horrendously stupid.

“Yeah, I was lucky. I found the ad on Gumtree about ten minutes after they posted it. Only cost me fifteen plus the petrol to get it over here. I’d been meaning to get one for ages but I almost never spend time in here so I kept putting it off.”

“Well it’s great timing. And now I don’t have to worry about kicking you in my sleep,” Merlin joked.

“Why?” Arthur narrowed his eyes.

“Because I’ll be sleeping on the sofa?” Merlin asked slowly.

“Merlin, are you trying to get out of our deal?” Arthur frowned.

“What, no - ”

“Are you uncomfortable sharing a bed with a gay man?”

“You’re gay?” Merlin practically yelped. “And no?!”

“Then what’s the problem here?”

“I thought you bought it for me to sleep on!” Merlin’s heart was racing as he tried to wrap his head around the last thirty seconds. “I thought you might have reconsidered your offer and wanted some personal space, that’s all!”

Arthur gaze remained thunderous, his arms crossed firmly against his chest.

“Besides,” Merlin charged on, “I’d have to be pretty thick to be afraid of sharing a bed with a gay man when I’m gay too.”

Arthur continued to glare at him, as if daring him to admit he was joking. Merlin returned his stare with equal stubbornness.

“Don’t be ridiculous Merlin, you’re not sleeping out here. All six feet of you isn’t going to fit on a four foot loveseat.”

“I could curl up,” Merlin replied in what was possibly the weakest argument of all time.

Arthur didn’t even acknowledge his feeble response.

“Eat your dinner,” he said, reaching for his bowl again. “I’m not heating that up for you if it goes cold.”

Merlin obediently ate three spoonfuls before pressing his luck.

“So, am I allowed to ask any questions without getting into trouble?”

Arthur snorted. “Depends what you ask.”

Merlin pushed a piece of chicken around his bowl, stalling while he figured out how to phrase his question.

“Why didn’t you have anything up on the walls before I moved in? I mean,” he ploughed on even as Arthur opened his mouth, “I didn’t bother bringing anything with me because in theory I’m only going to be living up here for two more years tops and I didn’t really have any more room in my suitcases. But you’re clearly not from here and you didn’t choose to bring any of your stuff with you. Why is that?”

Arthur gave him what he hoped was a fond sort of look of exasperation. “You certainly don’t beat about the bush, do you?”

“‘Why beat about the bush when you can take the birds’ as my mum says,” Merlin grinned.

“Right. So you remember how I told you I walked out on my father’s company because I didn’t agree with the direction he was taking it in? The story is slightly more involved than that. I mean, at the core of it, it’s about his business practice – and I’m talking some really nasty stuff: sweatshops, unlawful land claims, the gamut of capitalism really. But I had some personal reasons for leaving too. Mainly because I never wanted to go into the family business in the first place and my father views acting as an especially low-brow profession, letting me know multiple times that he’d cut me off if I turned my back on the business.”

“So you ran away to become an actor?” asked Merlin, awestruck.

“Yup. Pretty literally too. We came out of a meeting with a particularly atrocious pair of investors and I decided I couldn’t stand working there another second. So I turned to my dad and said ‘Pops, I love you, but I can’t do this anymore’, packed my desk, and went for home.” He paused to scratch the back of his head.

“You don’t know my father of course, but he’s a man of his word. I had to move quickly to get my money out of the joint accounts and grab as much as I could from the flat. My sister was able to smuggle out some of the more sentimental items to hers, and I left with whatever I could carry on my back – or rather, roll in my suitcase. And here I am.” He finished with sort of ‘voila’ shake to his shoulders which reminded Merlin that it was probably his turn to say something.

“Wow,” he settled on finally. “That sounds like something straight out of Hollyoaks.”

“Yeah,” Arthur pursed his lips and nodded in agreement.

“So why acting? Did you just choose the thing that you knew would piss him off the most?”

“No, believe it or not, there's more to my character than wanting to spite my father.” He frowned. “I've wanted to be an actor for as long as I could remember. My aunt took us to a show for my sixth birthday and I thought it was tops. And once the idea took hold I couldn't let it go.”

“What show was it?” asked Merlin, fascinated.

Arthur tilted his chin up with just the hint of defiance. “Mother Goose. At the Hackney Empire.”

Laughter erupted from Merlin before he could clamp down on it. “I'm sorry,” he flattened his lips in a thin line. “But you fell in love with acting because of a _panto_.”

“And what's wrong with pantos?” Arthur demanded.

“Nothing!” Merlin laughed. “It's just so adorable. I can picture a tiny you doing the callouts so clearly.”

“Well… yes,” said Arthur, clearly wrong-footed. “Like I said, I didn't have much time to get out - and I mean get out. Staying in London wasn't an option. So I bought a ticket on the first train out of St. Pancras and told myself I'd deal with whatever was on the other side. The theatre scene here isn't ideal but I'll tell you Merlin, it feels so good to be free.” He smiled, his gaze drifting somewhere over Merlin's head. “I'm almost thirty, I'm working at McDonalds, I live in a mould-infested dump, I'm getting the shittiest roles for little to no pay, and I still wouldn't trade it for the world.”

He looked so serene that Merlin could do little more than smile with him. Had Merlin been a timelord, he gladly would have used his timey-wimey powers to stop time and stay in this moment for as long as he could. Sadly, he was bound by the same laws as everyone else, and could only stare at Arthur without speaking for approximately three seconds before he started to feel creepy.

“Well, I’d call this meal a success!” Merlin popped the last spoonful of rice into his mouth. “We’ve lived together half an hour and we’re already bonding.”

“Don’t be such a girl Merlin.” Arthur rolled his eyes.

“I’m not the one spilling about my daddy issues.”

“Your phrasing of ‘my daddy issues’ makes me think there’s a story there.”

“Oh no,” said Merlin, rising from the sofa, “you’re not getting it from me that easily. Some of us like to keep our secrets thank you very much.”

“I told you mine! How is this fair?”

“Life isn’t fair Arthur,” Merlin called over his shoulder, filling the sink to start the washing up.

The evening passed enjoyably enough. Merlin soon learned that Arthur was a student of the Stanislavski school of acting, something he was forced to ask about after watching Arthur crawl around on the floor for five minutes pretending to be a rhinoceros. Distressingly, watching Arthur bellow and paw his imaginary hooves on the dingy carpet did nothing to detract from how attractive he was. Sure it looked a bit odd, and it would certainly be a different case if they were out in public, but Merlin found it rather charming to see just how dedicated Arthur was to his craft, regardless of the fact he was rehearsing to audition for an unpaid part. And it was actually enjoyable to have Arthur’s litany of weird warm-up exercises keeping him company as he graded lab reports. The stark silence of his flat usually kept him in his office or the library until closing hours. It was nice to have someone around, even as they participated in separate activities beside one another and it warmed Merlin’s heart in a way he hadn’t known he’d been missing.

Soon enough though, their bubble of parallel play was broken by the striking of the clock at midnight. Except instead of turning into a pumpkin, Merlin was forced to acknowledge that he was actually going to have to share a bed with Arthur. Chucking the last report on top of the stack, he tipped his head slowly from side to side, working out the kinks and working up the courage to open his mouth.

“So uh, shall I take the first shift or?” he breached awkwardly.

“Pardon?” asked Arthur, looking up from his script.

“Should I go first in the toilet, or just... What’s your routine?”

“Oh right.” Arthur pulled out his phone. “Christ it _is_ late. I’ve just got to do my teeth and then it’s all yours.”

“Perfect.” Merlin clapped his hands together like some kind of deranged otter. Luckily for him, Arthur didn’t seem to take notice as he tossed his script on the table and padded down the two feet of floor trying to pass for a hallway.

Merlin briefly contemplated running after him and offering to brush his teeth in the kitchen, but he decided against it in favour of not looking like any more of a lunatic. Instead, he opted for tidying his mess and sitting awkwardly on the sofa, trying not to listen from the noises coming from the toilet. It couldn’t have been any more than five minutes before Arthur shouted “it’s all yours,” and padded off to the bedroom, but to Merlin it felt like an eternity. Stomach a ball of nerves, he forced himself to stand and walk to the toilet.

Arthur had evidently splurged a little on their bathroom décor too. The shower curtain was obviously new and patterned in little blue ducks. He wouldn’t have pegged Arthur for a duck person, but perhaps that was all Poundland had to offer. Either way, it was completely adorable. Merlin’s toothbrush stood proudly next to Arthur’s in an Avengers-themed cup. This, Merlin knew, was a deliberate choice. They had spent several enjoyable evenings debating the pros and cons of the films, and more importantly, who paired better with Steve. Arthur was firmly rooted in Team Tony, whereas Merlin was more inclined to think Bucky, though he also carried a small torch for Natasha. It was nice to see a bit of a personal touch in their space, even if it was a cheaply made plastic cup.

He spent much more time than usual on brushing his teeth, all the while torturing himself with thoughts of Arthur repulsed by his breath and rescinding his offer. Though, all things considered, it might be easier to be kicked to the sofa for bad breath. At least then he wouldn’t wake up with his morning boner mashed into Arthur’s back. Unfortunately, he came to this decision on his fourth pass in his brushing cycle, far too late to have Arthur banish him to the sofa before sleep. Too far to turn back, Merlin saluted his reflection with the Listerine bottle, tipped his head back, and took a large mouthful. Swishing it around until it started to burn, he spat it out, wiped his mouth, and turned to face the music.

The music, as it turned out, was a shirtless Arthur in track shorts.

“Sorry!” said Merlin, blushing and turning away like he’d never seen a bare chest before. “I didn’t realise you were still changing.”

“I’m… not?” Arthur asked with a quizzical twist of his head.

“Oh.”

Merlin’s brain utterly failed him as he took in the view. Arthur’s torso was wider than he’d pictured under those t-shirts that clung far too tightly to his biceps. Wider was by no means a bad thing he decided, mind already drifting to the new possibilities Arthur’s obvious level of strength provided.

“Do I have something on my chest?” asked Arthur.

“Hair - erm, what?” Merlin forced his gaze to return to Arthur’s face.

“Are you comfortable with me sleeping shirtless?” Arthur raised an eyebrow.

“Yes,” lied Merlin flawlessly. “I’m just surprised. If I was you I would have totally brought my matching silk pajama set in my mad flee from London.”

“Sadly they did not make the cut.” Arthur snorted. “Besides, silk is far too staticy to wear comfortably to bed.”

“I knew it! I bet they were monogrammed with your initials and everything,” said Merlin gleefully.

“You look far too happy and I refuse to dignify this with a response.” Arthur shot him a look of pure contempt that reduced Merlin to giggling mess.

“If you’re losing your head over my imaginary silk pajamas, I think you’re going to be supremely disappointed with how I actually sleep,” said Arthur, pulling open a drawer.

“Oh?”

“Very. Nothing grandiose about this.” Arthur grimaced and opened a small box, procuring a well-worn retainer.

Merlin had to bite his lip and look away as Arthur popped it into his mouth.

“And tha’s not all,” said Arthur, the barest hint of a lisp cutting into his t’s.

“Oh god,” Merlin giggled into his shoulder. “I don’t know if I can take anymore.”

There was a slight rustling and the tearing of paper.

“Drink it in,” Arthur sighed.

Shaking with anticipatory laughter, Merlin turned his head back to Arthur. Arthur, God on earth, perfection incarnate, now had a sleeping mask hung around his neck and a nasal strip across his nose, flaring his nostrils in comical fashion.

Normally, Merlin prided himself on his ability to keep a straight face. It served him time and again when dealing with his supervisors when all he really wanted to do was roll his eyes until they fell out of their sockets. He was however, apparently helpless against Arthur’s nighttime apparatuses. Covering his mouth, he put up a valiant fight for all of two seconds before giving in to laughter.

“Look, I told you it wasn’ anything glamorous.”

“No, it’s not that,” Merlin gasped out. “I’ve just never seen anyone transform so quickly from lad to teen girl.”

“Shut up _Mer_ lin. I have a deviated septum that causes breathing difficulties. Look it up, it’s a real condition!”

“Oh I believe you. But it doesn’t detract from the quirky, pre-makeover Disney princess vibe you’re giving off. I’m surprised your mask doesn’t have ‘Sleeping Beauty’ or ‘Mrs. Styles’ embroidered on it.”

“Please.” He rolled his eyes. “If anything it would read ‘Mrs. Malik’.”

“Of course it would.”

“Who doesn’t like Zayn? Honestly. The man has the voice of an angel. But as much as I love bantering about One Direction, are you planning on coming to bed any time tonight?”

Merlin tried very hard not to let Arthur inviting him to bed affect him.

“As soon as I’m changed Your Highness,” he replied, ignoring the rush of heat to his stomach.

“Well hurry up then.” Arthur turned his back and began fluffing the pillows.

Not wanting an audience, Merlin hastily pulled out his pajamas. He wasn’t sure whether Arthur was deliberately trying to give him some privacy or if the pillows really did need fluffing. Either way, it was appreciated. Merlin wasn’t exactly ashamed of his body. His mother had worked very hard on body positivity from a young age, so he had never paid it much mind when some of peers started working out. He got a healthy amount of exercise, but he wasn’t exactly a beefcake, and in current company he felt a little inadequate. That, and a few moles he’d been begging his mum to pay to have lasered off since his first swimming lesson, meant he felt no desire to drag out the changing process.

Turning back around, he caught the slightest flash of movement out of his peripheral vision. If Arthur had just been looking at him he did a good job of pretending he hadn’t.

“Well that’s me done,” said Merlin, reaching to pull back the covers.

“No, Merlin,” said Arthur suddenly, “you’re going to have to sleep on the other side.”

“What?” asked Merlin cautiously.

“I always sleep on the left.”

“Always? As in even when you sleep alone?” he asked, hand frozen with the duvet in mid-air.

Arthur nodded and waved his hand in the universal gesture of ‘move over’.

“This is another Disney princess thing, isn’t it?” Merlin grinned as he crawled across the bed. “Are your eyes really that blue or do you secretly wear coloured contacts? I bet you have a big old pair of black plastic frame glasses kicking around somewhere.”

“I’ll kick you around somewhere,” Arthur growled.

Contrary his words, he gave Merlin a shove that knocked him onto his side. Hoping Arthur would peg the red of his cheeks on laughter and not the thrill of Arthur pushing him into bed, Merlin rolled on to his back and nestled his head into his freshly fluffed pillow.

“Shall I get the lights?” asked Arthur, hand hovering next to the switch.

“Unless you like sleeping with them on, yes.”

“I think this speaks for itself,” said Arthur, tugging at the sleeping mask.

The lights clicked off with an audible snap and Merlin felt a thrill of excitement unfurl in his stomach at what came next. The thin curtain wasn’t enough to block out all the light from the street lamps so Merlin was able to watch Arthur ambling towards him.  This was it.

“Thanks for the fluffing,” said Merlin as Arthur dropped into bed next to him and pulled the duvet over him.

“I try.” He grabbed a spare pillow and tucked it under his elbow. “I think this is as plump as Primark pillows can get.”

“It’s the thought that counts.”

The heat of early summer washed over them in a heavy haze. Outside, the familiar sounds of sirens blared in the distance. They lay in parallel, neither speaking and Merlin gave a silent ‘thank you’ to the gods that it wasn’t awkward. The thrill of lying so close to Arthur with bare arms almost touching was definitely still present, but underlying it was something that felt very natural, as if they’d been sharing a bed for forever. The odd moment of calm was broken by the sound of an approaching train.

“I think the trains are louder on your side of the building,” Merlin grumbled.

“Mmmm,” Arthur murmured, voice already growing heavy with sleep.

Out of the corner of his eye, Merlin watched as he pulled the sleep mask up into place and rolled on to his side, still hugging the pillow to his chest.

“Any other rules I should be aware of before you pass out Your Highness?”

“Rules?”

“You always sleep on the left, you sleep hugging a pillow, you clearly don’t believe in pillow talk before bed, anything else? Do you require the bed to be warmed before get in?”

Arthur gave him a soft kick to the calf.

“You’d be an absolutely shit bed warmer, your legs are like ice.”

In what was probably a completely platonic gesture out of concern for Merlin’s circulation, Arthur briskly rubbed his foot up and down the side of Merlin’s leg. Merlin forced back a shiver as Arthur’s toenails scratched his leg in a way that positively scintillating.

“Comes from working in a light-controlled lab for eight hours a day,” he joked, “it’s adapt or freeze to death.”

“Tha’s not healthy,” Arthur yawned, continuing to methodically torture Merlin by basically petting his leg. “You should file a workers comp claim.”

“I don’t think it’s quite that drastic,” Merlin yawned back.

As much as he would have liked the scratching to continue, he was fairly confident he wouldn’t be able to sleep if any part of Arthur was touching him. With great difficulty, he rolled away from Arthur and on to his side. He was surprised at just how tired he was. Normally he struggled to quiet his mind enough to actually fall asleep. But lying beside Arthur and listening to his deep, slow breathing was quite relaxing. He was just beginning to feel himself drift when Arthur broke the silence, so softly Merlin wasn’t entirely sure it wasn’t just a dream.

“I’m glad you’re here Merlin.”

Merlin meant to respond. He really did. Because that was such an odd remark. But somewhere in the middle of clearing the cotton out of his brain enough to respond, he drifted off to sleep and forgot about the strangeness of Arthur’s words entirely.

The next morning Merlin came back to the land of the living slowly. He normally woke rather quickly, his obnoxious ringtone depriving him of any opportunity to slide back into sleep. Today however, his body seemed perfectly happy to wake itself up before the alarm sounded, consciousness coming back to him at a languid pace. His face was mashed into something soft and incredibly warm and he would have been content to lie like that for several hours until the thing let out a sigh and Merlin’s brain caught up with his current reality.

In what was possibly the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to him (and included in that was the preschool year where he wore a cape everywhere and insisted that everyone call him ‘Your Wizardness’. There’s a year’s worth of pictures. Hunith still pulls them out when he brings a date home. It isn’t a pretty sight) he was forced to admit that at some point in the night he and Arthur turned to face each other. And apparently he’s got less self-control than he thought, because not only did his sleep-self cross the spare few inches of bed to get up in Arthur’s personal space, but he felt it would be appropriate to attach his face to Arthur’s chest like he’s a goddamn plecostomus.

Horrified, Merlin quickly took stock of the rest of their positioning. Arthur had apparently wrapped an arm around Merlin’s back and shoved a knee between his legs at some point (probably in an attempt to get comfortable again after Merlin so rudely invaded his personal space) so while their ankles were tangled together like teenagers in the lunch room, their crotches and Merlin’s massively hard morning erection were kept from touching. Sadly, the thin duvet obstructed his view of Arthur’s downstairs, so it was impossible to say if Arthur’s dick had also decided to pop up and say hello. Merlin was disappointed by this for the merest second before feeling disgusted in himself for preying further on the man whom he had grabbed onto like a lecher in his sleep. The saving grace of this entirely unfortunate situation was that Arthur’s sleep mask had stayed in place which meant Merlin still had a chance at sneaking away without him seeing any of it. But before he could even begin to think about the best way to extract himself from Arthur’s hold, Arthur’s alarm went off and ruined any hopes he had for a sneaky escape.

Springing into action, Arthur rolled over, causing their skin to peel apart with a slight tug like a plaster being pulled off. With a push of the button he silenced the alarm and pivoted on one elbow so that he could push the sleep mask up onto his forehead.

“Morning Merlin,” he said, far too alert for someone who had been in a dead sleep just seconds before.

“Morning,” Merlin replied, clutching the duvet to his chest, acutely aware that their ankles were still crossed.

“That wasn’t so bad then, was it?” He gently prodded Merlin’s calf with his toe and Merlin nearly leapt out of his skin.

“Nope,” he squeaked.

“Excellent! See, I told you this would work. Bagsy first shower.”

Entirely too cheerful for the early hour, he whipped back the duvet and was out the door before Merlin could blink.

“Okay.”

And so it began. They saw each other on a fairly random basis what with Arthur rushing off to last-minute auditions and Merlin occasionally having to barricade himself in the lab to get last minute reports done, but they always made sure to spend an hour or so before bedtime in each other’s company. The days Merlin liked best were the rare ones where neither of them had any pressing appointments and they got to spend extended periods of time together. Sometimes they ventured outside – Arthur claiming Merlin needed all the vitamin D he could get – and spent the afternoon in one of the many parks. Occasionally they would go to the art gallery (Merlin’s pick due to the free entrance) but more often than not they found themselves at the cinema on Arthur’s dime (something that caused an argument every time and always ended with Arthur getting his way and Merlin having a brief sulk into his popcorn). Eventually Merlin got his wish of walking to the bus stop together and the extra treat of riding the number seventy-four together on days when grocery shopping could simply not be postponed by trips to the corner store any longer.

But for all the time Arthur spent trying to engage Merlin in activities outside their flat, Merlin liked it best when it was just the two of them on their awful little sofa. It was there that they discovered Merlin had a bit of a theatrical flair of his own when Arthur was desperate for someone to read the other role for an audition. It was also there that they spent most of their evenings, battling for legroom supremacy as they watched whatever film Arthur had managed to download off McDonald’s free wi-fi onto Merlin’s school laptop. It felt nice, living with Arthur in this odd little bubble; forced together by bike thieves and Arthur’s outdated sense of chivalry, but at a time when all around him his cohort were having mental breakdowns over their dissertations, Merlin was oddly at peace. Sure, it was still a bit strange waking up in the middle of the night when a train horn sounded only to find he was cuddling his best mate, but Arthur never mentioned it so Merlin was perfectly happy to continue their arrangement for as long as he could stretch it.

Which was, of course, weighing heavily on his mind. In the weeks immediately following what he privately referred to as The Big Move, Merlin had put off bike hunting and opted to take the bus, reasoning that he had enough on his plate to deal with (aka sharing a bed with the wet dream to end all wet dreams). But then two weeks had turned into two months and Merlin was running out of excuses to put off bike shopping. The new term would be starting soon which meant cold weather was just around the corner. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been peddling through the rain and cold in previous years, so he could hardly justify riding the bus all winter. Especially when Arthur had been gracious enough to let a man who had been a virtual stranger into his home for so many months already. The original agreement had been imposed so that Merlin could free up some cash to buy a bike. They could discuss how to proceed after Merlin’s bank account recovered from that particular hit.

Living with Arthur was cost effective in more ways than one. Besides the obvious rent adjustment, Merlin found he was no longer allowed to buy his own food unless it was something Arthur had absolutely no interest in eating (“I’m a stress-eater Merlin. If you leave a bag of doughnuts on the counter I might not be able to execute restraint. Best to let me foot the bill and turn the fridge into shared territory”). He made a point of cooking every time he was home for dinner, but still felt a little bit more than guilty at Arthur buying everything. The same went for toiletries and the like (“God made two-ply for a reason Merlin. I _refuse_ to wipe with anything less” and “do you have coloured hair? Do I have coloured hair? Good. Then I’ll buy this one and we can both use it”). Qualms about basically being Arthur’s kept man (though kept for what he couldn’t say) aside, Merlin found he really enjoyed having money again. Hell, if his savings continued to grow at a steady rate he would soon be able to join the ranks of the cell phone carriers.

Which is really the thing that brought it all to a head. Because of Merlin’s extreme financial destitution, he really didn’t have the kind of pocket money that led to a lively social life. Throw in his doctoral candidate status and that made his idea of a wild night two drinks down the pub on a Saturday night. Even on the nights he did manage to put his research down long enough to sneak away for a couple of drinks with his cohort, Arthur had started to come along on more and more of these outings. In fact, in all aspects of Merlin’s life Arthur was just…there. He sat in on Merlin’s poster presentation even though he had no clue what half the words meant. He was an absolute legend on their pub quiz team and had helped them finally pull ahead of the business students in the league. Even Hunith had started including cakes and sweets for Arthur in the monthly care packages she sent Merlin and Mordred. Overall, Merlin felt he had adjusted quite well to having Arthur a constant in his life. Sure, he was dangerously close to falling in love with the man and he still wanted to throw him onto their bed and fuck him through the mattresses, but everyone had thoughts like that about their friends, didn’t they?

Merlin had adjusted so well to his new reality in fact, that when Mordred came crashing into his office on a Friday night, practically in tears because his samples had gotten contaminated in the final phase of a month long experiment and begged Merlin to help him, Merlin didn’t even spare a thought to bemoaning the loss of a Friday night with Arthur. There would be other Fridays in their future and surely Arthur could get on without him for one night. Besides, Arthur would probably appreciate some time apart. It had been months since either of them had been alone in the flat for more than a couple hours, and Arthur could probably benefit from have some quality time with his hand and a bottle of lube. Because despite all the strides Merlin had been making in seeing Arthur as a person and not just a sexual object, he still longed for the days when he could have a long relaxing wank and not just a quickie in the shower.

The downfall of course in Merlin’s plan was not recognizing that as codependent as he was on Arthur, Arthur might be just as attached to him. Which is why it didn’t even occur to him to call Arthur and let him know he was going to be home late.

Because when Merlin was finally able to drag himself home at half six in the morning – bleary-eyed and feeling like his entire body was filled with sand after spending the night scraping together enough remains for Mordred to continue his experiment – he found Arthur not asleep as expected, but sitting up bed, wide-eyed and very much awake. If pressed, Merlin would have said he looked downright stormy.

“You didn’t come home last night,” said Arthur abruptly.

“No?” asked Merlin, confused by a great many things but mostly by Arthur’s brisk tone.

“Have a good night?” Arthur crossed his arms.

“Not really… Sorry, I haven’t slept at all so I might be a wee bit thick, but are we having a fight right now?” Merlin scratched his head, ruffling his already tousled hair – the result of spending the better part of the night running his hands through it.

For reasons unknown, this made Arthur narrow his eyes.

“Course not,” he shrugged. “We’re both adults. We’re both free to do whatever or whomever we wish.”

Something in sleep-fogged brain tweaked him in on the fact that this was definitely a fight.

“I’m sorry but it’s really difficult to focus when you’ve got your retainer in.” Merlin scrubbed a hand across his face. “What are you on about?”

“You could have brought him here you know,” said Arthur acidly, waving his retainer for emphasis. “We could draw up a schedule, take turns sleeping on the sofa, just so that it stays fair.”

“So what stays fair?”

“Actually.” Arthur threw off the duvet and stood up. “Screw the schedule. I can’t time my libido like clock-work, I might go out tonight and pull someone. Hell, maybe I’ll pull two!”

“Like, for sex?” Confused and wanting to cry a little, Merlin felt the sudden urge to invent a time machine and rewind this entire conversation out of existence.

“Yes for sex,” Arthur bit out. “Or do you and your squeeze from last night call it something else?”

“I was with Mordred last night.”

“You had sex with your cousin?!” Arthur’s eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his skull and with sudden clarity Merlin caught up with the subject of the conversation.

“No! Don’t be revolting! His thesis project blew up in his face – almost literally – and I had to help him reconstruct enough samples so he could get his results turned in.”

“Oh.”

There was a pause as Arthur absorbed this new information and Merlin tried to figure out where the hell to go from there.

“Do you…want to bring someone home?” asked Merlin in a small voice.

“No!” Arthur blurted out practically before Merlin was finished speaking.

“Good. I guess.”

Even the Berocca incident hadn’t been this awkward. Merlin cast around hopelessly for something to say that would end this hell pit of a conversation, but all he could come up with was the laddiest of lines.

“So…are we alright?”

“Yeah. No actually, we’re not.” Arthur sat down on the edge of the bed, all the fight gone out of him, and folded his hands in his lap, making him look vulnerable somehow. “I’m sorry for being such a knob about this.”

“It’s okay,” Merlin shrugged. Had he been properly awake, he might be a bit miffed at the situation, but his exhaustion levels were far too high to be dealing with any of it and quite frankly he was just glad the yelling had stopped.

“No, it’s not!” Arthur raked a hand through his hair. “Because I’m a grown man and I shouldn’t let the fact that I fucking fancy you make me turn into a ragging psychopath at the thought that you’re out on the pull.”

Merlin blinked. “You what?”

“I’m sorry if this makes things weird between us,” said Arthur helplessly, “and I completely understand if you want to move out, but I’m rather hoping you won’t.”

“Sorry. Can we just back up to the part where you said you fancy me?” asked Merlin, turning his hands in circles like he could physically make time rewind with the action.

“Sure. Because it’s quite a lot actually. I’m a big fat liar who lured you here under false pretences because I really wanted to get to know you more and couldn’t bare to see you move out so soon after meeting you. Offering to share a bed with you has been simultaneously the best and absolute worst decision I’ve ever made in my life and please make me stop talking because this is all horribly embarrassing.”

Merlin had never been particularly smooth in any of his past romantic endeavors. From falling off the bed mid-coitus to hitting himself in the eye with a condom he’d done it all. Which is why his next move was impressively suave, especially considering how exhausted he was.

“No it’s not,” he breathed softly, crossing the short space between them with tentative steps. “It’s a little bit perfect.”

Giving a silent thank you to whatever deity had made Arthur take his retainer out earlier, Merlin slung his leg across Arthur’s lap and seated himself on his bare thighs. Of course, he still had the nasal strip on, but Merlin could work with that. Beneath him, Arthur had gone completely still, seemingly entranced with watching what Merlin would do next. Not one to keep his audience waiting, Merlin angled his head slightly and pressed his lips to Arthur’s. As soon as he made contact, it was like a light was switched on and Arthur responded with great enthusiasm, wrapping his arms around Merlin’s back and fisting his fingers in Merlin’s hair.

Detaching himself, Merlin was pleased to hear a small whine of protest coming from Arthur at the sudden loss of contact.

“Just for the record, this isn’t me giving into you to end the argument. I fancy you quite a lot too. Truly, madly, deeply and all that. Just wanted to clear that up.” The last part was said with a great exhale of breath as Arthur picked Merlin up and made all his fantasies come true by throwing him down onto the bed.

“Your sentiments are very much appreciated, and I’m sure we’ll have a long drawn out talk about our feelings soon. But for now,” Arthur crawled swiftly up the bed to straddle him, “shut up so I can ravish you properly.”

Never let it be said that Merlin couldn’t follow direction. He was a doctoral candidate; that shit was practically written into his biological code. And when the order was so enticing, Merlin couldn’t see any reason why he shouldn’t lie back and let Arthur stroke him like it’s going out of style.

True to his word, Arthur turned out to be quite skilled at ravishing. He took Merlin apart piece-by-piece with long, languid kisses and then built him up again with fast, brutal strokes. Merlin was particularly fond of the thing Arthur did with his fingers while nuzzling Merlin’s cock like it was something precious. It was simultaneously the hottest and somehow most tender sex Merlin had ever had. Then again, the tender thing was pretty hot in and of itself, so overall it was probably safe to say it was the best sex of his life.

Sometime after they’d both come down from cloud nine – because Merlin likes to think he knows his way around a cock and by the noises Arthur was making he agreed – and had changed the sheets (because no one likes to lie in the wet spot) a sudden thought occurred to him.

“We’re you trying to make this happen? With all the cuddling and the accidental spooning?”

“Don’t be ridiculous Merlin.” Behind him, Arthur scooted closer and wrapped an arm around his chest. “I sleep like a log. You’re the one that’s been coming on to me in the night.”

“That would make sense,” Merlin agreed, tracing random patterns across Arthur’s knuckles, “except that I know for a fact that on our first night together we fell asleep facing in opposite directions. Which means either you were awake when the cuddling started or I manhandled you into rolling over and forced myself into your arms without waking you up. Out of those two scenarios, which sounds more likely?”

Arthur was apparently one to fight dirty, as he prefaced his answer by pressing warm, open-mouth kisses on the knob of Merlin’s spine. “Does it really matter who was awake for what anymore?”

“You cheeky sod.” Merlin laughed. “You were the one who started the cuddle, weren’t you?”

“So what if I was?”

“I knew it!”

Merlin could feel Arthur smile against the back of his neck. “Why do you think I bolted out of bed so fast that morning? I had to get out of there before you saw my boner. I’m ninety percent positive is was visible from space.”

“And here I was, beating myself up for months for preying on my best mate when he was asleep and unable to defend himself.”

“You should probably give up on medicine and become a playwright. You’ve got the right emotional tenor for it.” Arthur yawned.

“Mmm, don’t talk to me about science right now.” Merlin yawned back. “I’m officially taking the day off in favour of having a lie-in until noon at least.”

“Probably a good idea. I didn’t sleep much last night either.”

“Too busy being consumed by blinding jealousy?” Merlin snickered.

“Something like that.”

Drawing Arthur’s fist closer to his chest, Merlin sighed contentedly. Their shabby curtains did nothing to keep out the early morning light but something told him he’d be able to fall asleep anyway. He was just drifting off when a train horn blared, offensively loud as usual.

“Why? _Why?_ Why is it, that no matter what time of day it is, as soon as my head touches the pillow a bloody train goes past?”

“To be quite honest Merlin, I don’t really care if they wake us up in the middle of the night anymore. I’m sure we can find something to do.”

And with that comforting promise, Merlin finally drifted off to sleep.


End file.
